


Shots

by seki



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and ficlets from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misfire (Yukimura and Sanada and Yanagi)

**Author's Note:**

> These fics are usually Rikkai, and usually quite short, and not quite worth posting separately.
> 
> This fic is called 'Misfire': Sanada and Yukimura and Yanagi and an assumption that's not quite on target, sometime in high school.

"When you can beat me in a fair game, I’ll kiss you."

Sanada nearly dropped his racquet. “What?”

Sanada stared at Yukimura, who grinned at him merrily in response. “I will kiss you — properly, on the mouth — if you can defeat me.”

Renji, sat at the side of the court, didn’t even look up from his book. “Seiichi, don’t make motivational promises you wouldn’t extend to the whole team.”

"I’ll promise whatever I want. You need a reason to beat me, Genichirou? Well, now you have one."

Sanada swallowed, alarmed.

Watching Yukimura closely had become a constant habit since the end of middle school, and it had always seemed more diplomatic to let Yukimura think it was because of attraction instead of concern for his health. And, well, Yukimura _was_ attractive. Sanada found other people more attractive, however, and without the baggage of a dozen years of shared history to muddle the matter.

So what was Sanada expected to do now? Redouble his efforts as if the promise of Yukimura’s lips was a prize he couldn’t resist? Or risk a blow to Yukimura’s ego by admitting he wasn’t, in fact, _that_ interested?

He sighed, and shook his head. “No.”

" _No_?"

Renji snorted. “Good for you, Genichirou.”

Yukimura drew himself up, spine straight and eyes fierce. “What, you’re going to pretend you don’t want me now?”

"I’m not pretending anything. But I’m not going to play you until you retract that."

Sanada walked over to sit next to Renji, who smiled softly at him.

Yukimura looked bewildered and a little hurt. “But—”

"Let it drop, Seiichi," advised Renji, flipping the page in his book.

"I thought—" Yukimura bit his lip, and then squared his shoulders. "Fine. If you — or anyone on the team, thank you Renji — can beat me in a straight game, I’ll run a lap in my underwear."

Sanada plucked at his racquet strings, thoughtfully. “Two laps.”

"At morning practise," added Renji. "Next Monday. And Genichirou has the same forfeit if you win."

"Done."

Sanada stood up, and strode back onto the court. “It’s going to be unseasonably cold on Monday, isn’t it?”

"So I’ve heard," confirmed Renji.

Yukimura smirked, and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. “Then don’t hold back.”


	2. Contact (Sanada/Yukimura)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is 'contact'.
> 
> One-hour fic challenge, prompt: massage.
> 
> Sanada/Yukimura.

They're 16, and Yukimura's done something horrible to his back that Sanada doesn't quite grasp the impact of until he sees the schedule for Yukimura's resultant physical therapy sessions.

"At least it's not tennis season," he says, grasping at straws, and Yukimura flashes him a wry grin before returning his attention to Renji's rundown of the most efficient ways to speed his recovery.

A month passes, and Sanada has noticed that Yukimura's a little more distant than he's been since they started dating. They kiss, sometimes, but Yukimura doesn't seem to want to go beyond that any more, and Sanada always been a little too awed by Yukimura to make the first moves in their relationship. Sanada wonders if maybe it's part of the recovery process, if Yukimura's worried about hurting his back during more intimate moments. Or perhaps he thinks Sanada will be repelled by the brace he wears to support his back while he heals. In any event, Sanada can wait, he thinks, until Yukimura's comfortable enough. They have forever, after all.

Renji approaches Sanada, six weeks after the accident.

"Seiichi's skipping some of his therapy sessions," he says, frowning over a notebook.

"What? Why?"

"I only have theories," Renji says, shaking his head. "But I checked with the hospital, and he's diligent about most of them. But he's only been to one massage session in the past four weeks."

"Oh." Sanada thinks about that, and shrugs. "Is that important, though? It's not like proper therapy."

Renji scowls at him. "It's a useful adjunct. Even if it was just for relaxation, it would serve a purpose, but in his specific case it would help manage his pain levels. Seiichi isn't so masochistic that I imagine he'd forgo pain relief. Something's wrong, for him to be missing them."

"Oh."

Sanada lets himself be talked into asking Yukimura about it, since they have a date scheduled that evening.

"I'm just a little weary of being touched by strangers," says Yukimura, breezily, as they walk back from the exhibition. "It sometimes feels like I've spent the last few years being poked and prodded at by doctors."

"Massage isn't the same, though."

"It's not necessary, even my therapy coordinator agrees. I'll be fine."

\--

Renji, over the phone, points out the obvious solution to Sanada.

\--

Yukimura looks both pleased and slightly apprehensive about the offer. Sanada's _prepared_ , with Renji's advice; his futon is laid out with a towel over it, the room is warmed, and he has a candle burning to heat the oil over. The overhead lights are off, and he has a couple of small lamps lit instead. The darkness and the warmth are relaxing, Renji's said, and that's important. It's almost romantic, Sanada realises suddenly, and flushes. Seduction has never really been part of his self-image.

Yukimura disrobes, without much self-consciousness, and lies on the futon as instructed. He wriggles a little, and shuffles the pillows around a little, then declares himself comfortable.

Sanada warms his hands with the oil, and then stares for a moment at the long line of Yukimura's back before giving himself a mental slap and just _getting on with it_.

Yukimura is tense under his hands, but -- gratifyingly -- does start to relax after a while, as Sanada sweeps long gliding strokes along his muscles. It's more tiring than Sanada expected, especially once he turns the strokes into kneading, but from the way Yukimura makes little moans of... pain, perhaps, but also definitely pleasure, Sanada wouldn't dream of stopping.

Those noises are getting to him, in a predictable way, and he spends a few seconds feeling a little guilty before concluding it's not really his fault; alright, this is supposed to be therapeutic, but Yukimura is _naked_ and his skin glistens faintly with the oil and the room smells of sandalwood and warm skin and Sanada's only human. He ignores his reaction, and concentrates on pushing the knots out of Yukimura's shoulders, careful not to pull too hard on the muscle around Yukimura's injury.

After half an hour or so, his hands throbbing with tiredness, Sanada whispers to Yukimura that he's going to have to stop.

"Mmmmm," Yukimura replies, and then he stretches, catlike, on the futon and looks over his shoulder. "Mmmmm. Thank you."

Sanada smiles, and blows out the candle, and wipes his hand on the towel. "Feel better?"

Yukimura rolls onto his back, his underwear as tented as Sanada's and his eyes hooded with lazy desire. "Well, I don't know if I want to fall asleep or jump you, but _yes_. Is that oil safe for, um?"

It isn't, Sanada discovers when he checks the label, but by the time he's found the relevant sentence Yukimura has drifted off into what looks like an extremely relaxed sleep. Sanada smiles fondly, and lets him rest.


	3. Gratitude (Yukimura)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 26th - Tenipuri 200 prompt #1 fill -- Yukimura Seiichi, gratitude.

Yukimura hated it when people expected him to be grateful.

He hadn’t asked people to worry about him, to care, to bring him gifts of fruit — which he wasn’t allowed to eat anyway — and cards and flowers. He certainly hadn’t asked for his schoolfriends and teammates to drop by to try to cheer him up, noisily and regularly. And perhaps, in fact, those friends didn’t expect gushing thanks, but his family and the nurses constantly harped on about how happy he should be. And how he should be sure to remember the kindnesses and considerations of his lovely friends.

(They didn’t know some of the friends well enough, he thought, darkly. Lovely wasn’t the word.)

He was supposed to be grateful for being alive, for something as straightforward as a surgeon having done his job correctly. He was, of course relieved to not have died, but it didn’t mean that every moment of his post-surgery life was unadorned happiness. And yet, every time his relatives saw him so much as frown, they asked why he wasn’t just happy to be alive, as if simple existence was enough justification for joy.

Still, expecting him to be grateful for Rikkai taking second place at Nationals was, thankfully, not even something his mother would have dared do.

He’d be grateful when Rikkai was back to being number one. Not before.


	4. Redacted (Yanagi/Niou)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was cut from a longer piece, which has since gone in a different direction where Renji wouldn't do this. Yanagi/Niou.
> 
> (Warning for blowjobs and infidelity.)

By the time Niou got home, Renji had had time to get really angry at himself, at Yukimura, at everything in his stupid pointless directionless life.

The truth was simply that Renji was sick of being the consolation prize, of being what was settled for instead of what was actually wanted. Oh, he didn’t think Yukimura thought of him that way, not precisely. But Yukimura wanted _Sanada_ , he always had, and that awareness was slowly chipping away at Renji’s sense of self-worth.

But Niou — Niou had made it very clear that he wanted _Renji_ , in one way at least.

"Any particular reason you’re staring at me this evening?" Niou asked later, as he wiped his hands on a towel in the kitchen.

"Yukimura."

Niou paused, and then set the towel down on the counter, fastidiously folding it into quarters. “Oh.”

"You’re right. It needs to change."

Niou’s face was a picture of composed unconcern. “And you’re going to change it?”

"If you’ll," said Renji, "If you want to. Still."

Niou made a low humming noise, as he returned to the living area. Renji stood up, uncertainly. Was Niou going to… to do something? Renji had no idea how this sort of thing was expected to go.

Niou stopped, an arms-length away, and stared at Renji as if assessing him. “You want to cheat on Yukimura. That is what you’re asking me to help you do, right here and right now. Just so we’re crystal clear.”

Renji nodded, swallowing.

"Ask me properly, Yanagi. You ask, and you take responsibility for asking, or you don’t get."

Renji took a breath. “I want you to help me cheat on—”

Renji didn’t even finish the sentence before Niou’s hands were moving, unfastening his jeans. “Then _yes_. God, _yes_.” The chains hanging from Niou’s belt clinked gently as he unbuttoned himself, stepping into Renji’s personal space. “How much are you up for though? Hands, mouth?”

Renji glanced down as Niou’s hands started on _his_ buckle. He was already hardening, just from Niou’s proximity, from Niou’s eagerness, from being wanted this openly. “Ah — mouth, then.”

Niou sank to his knees immediately, and it seemed like a matter of a split-second before his mouth was engulfing Renji’s cock. Yukimura, when he went down on Renji, was slow and meditative. Niou, in stark contrast, was fast and enthusiastic and made hungry, demanding noises as he worked his lips and tongue and hands in a startlingly effective combination. It was almost overwhelming, thought Renji dizzily. It felt like being the centre of the entire universe, just for a while, and a universe that wanted to give you a good time at that. Renji’s knees kept threatening to buckle beneath him, and his hands flexed uselessly as he fought the urge to yank Niou closer by the hair.

When he came — sooner than he’d have liked, really — Niou swallowed around him unhesitatingly and repeatedly, as sparks flashed behind Renji’s eyes. He didn’t stop even when Renji’d finished spasming, didn’t stop until Renji physically pushed him away.

"My turn," Renji managed. "Up, stand up."

Niou grinned, and got to his feet as Renji half-crumpled to the floor. For a moment, he thought about emulating Niou’s technique — it was certainly a delightful one to be on the receiving end of — but as soon as his hand wrapped around the base of Niou’s cock, Niou inhaled quietly, a noise that was suffused with delight. The sound sent a little thrill down Renji’s nerves, along with an urge to not rush this. He licked the tip of Niou’s cock slowly, letting his tongue tease the edge of the foreskin.

"Fuck," rasped Niou as Renji repeated the motion. "I should have known, you’re a fucking tease, fuck, yes.”

Renji smiled up at Niou, and then set about trying to pull as many more gasps out of him as possible. It was satisfying; Niou was so _responsive_ , and talkative too. He ran his hands through Renji’s hair, guiding him gently, and uttered breathy remarks about how good Renji’s mouth felt, begging for him to go faster or slower or repeat things. It was flattering; perhaps Niou was always this effusive with his lovers, but it still felt _genuine_ and earned. Niou’s eloquence became rather more incoherent the closer he came to orgasm, and that too made Renji feel absurdly smug.

Niou’s knees did buckle just after he came, and he collapsed into an ungraceful slump as Renji swallowed hastily. Renji just had time to wipe his mouth with his sleeve before Niou surged forward and kissed him, unexpectedly, his mouth opening slickly against Renji’s own. Niou pulled back before the kiss could feel intimate, though, his grin re-emerging. “Shit, always the quiet ones, huh.”

Renji snorted, and wiped his mouth again. “How would that explain you?”

"Natural talent." Niou said, still grinning, as he hauled his underwear and trousers back up. "Nn, god, I’ve wanted that — wanted you — for ages."

Renji ducked his head, and pulled his own clothing back into place. Niou’s matter-of-factness was comforting, but still. “I suppose it’s been inevitable, really.”

He felt Niou’s hand under his chin, tugging his head upwards with surprising gentleness. “Hey, I was hoping we were good for another few minutes of afterglow before the guilt kicked in here.”

"I’m not feeling guilty yet, just… clear-headed." Renji sighed, and shimmied backwards a little so he could lean against the bookcase; the bookcase which Yukimura had quietly bought after Renji’d been living there a month with his books still in boxes and — well. He tipped his head back, feeling it press against the reassuring solidity of the spines on the third shelf up. Mishima, he thought, idly. "I’m being a parasite."

Niou snorted. “Yeah?”

"I’m not really writing, not anything that’s worth printing. Yukimura knows that. It’s a kindness, letting me stay."

"Fuck’s sake, Yanagi, you’re sleeping with him. Trust me, that’s worth something, it’s not like he’s letting you stay entirely out of selflessness." Niou stretched, languidly. "If it’s pissing you off to live like this, move out."

"You make it sound a lot easier than it is."

Niou shrugged. “Nothing’s easy if it’s worthwhile, right?”


	5. Monsters (Niou/Yagyuu)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny D1 Halloween ficlet.

Niou hoisted himself up onto the wall to wait. It was always the best place to watch everyone arrive at the party. There was the usual parade of boring costumes this year, which at least made him feel better about his own lazy effort.

He jumped down when Yagyuu strolled in, some time later.

Yagyuu tipped his head to one side, looking him up and down, his lips curling into a vaguely amused smirk. “A catboy. Really.”

"Yeah, yeah, I borrowed the bits from my sister, couldn’t afford anything else this year." Niou shook his head, making the bell around his neck ring faintly. "At least I’m in costume."

"Oh, I promise you, I’m Halloween-appropriate."

Niou peered at Yagyuu closely — school uniform, neatly parted hair, glasses, same Yagyuu as every day. “Hm. Open your mouth?”

Yagyuu bared his straight, blunt teeth at Niou — no fangs, so there went Niou’s guess — and then he reached out and plucked the cat-ear headband from Niou’s head. “Try harder.”

Niou frowned.

"There are more frightening monsters than the obvious ones." Yagyuu’s smirk widened and sharpened, and he undid the belt that held Niou’s tail on, letting it fall to the floor. Then he raised his hand to Niou’s collar and tapped the bell. "In fact, the less obvious they are, the more you should fear them."

Niou considered that for a moment, then reached up for the buckle of his collar.

"I knew you’d see it my way," said Yagyuu, his smile now back to the amused smirk.

"Only when you’re right," Niou said. He could stash the cat gear in a bush nearby. "And you’re right. I’m much more terrifying than any fucking cat."

"I should hope so."

"Okay then, lead on. Let’s be _real_ monsters.”

**Author's Note:**

> (uploading some of the shorter things that were lurking around on tumblr but which I hadn't put up here! I just want them to be backed up somewhere really.)


End file.
